Sunday, 28 June 2009

It has come to my attention that the question of the correct attire for recreational pursuits - hunting, fishing and the like - is one that is being treated of, across the pages of the Internet, in a manner which I - and indeed, I am sure, any other right thinking gentleman - can only deplore.

I am sorry that it has come to this point, but I feel it is called for that I should make a definitive statement and, once and for all, put an end to this tide of idle prattle concerning namby-pamby, womanish and un-natural materials. The Good Lord did not put us on this earth in order for us to make mock of ourselves! No, we are made in the image of our Creator and we should, therefore dress, in our leisure time, much as he would; which is to say, primarily, of course, in stout tweeds, brogues and with a decent bloody cap on. None of this beastly 'Gortex' nonsense.

There. We'll speak no more of it, now: the matter is closed.__________________________________________________________

I'm writing to express my gratitude, and to say how pleased i was to hear you bring this, valid, and indeed prescient point to the attention of your congregation.

I myself has only recently been inducted into the cadre of the properly attired and have felt a great deal better since my emancipation.

My own dear father took me to one side and offered me a natty hacking jacket in Harris Tweed. Which, I 'm pleased to say, i had the good sense to accept immediately.

The sense of probity I've felt while wearing it has been thoroughly enhanced on two occasions, coincidently by members of my family.

My father went on to tell me that the very garment I'm now wearing is in fact older than I am. How my heart soared! I, not only inducted, but a poster-boy for the wear defying properties of that most ingenious of materials.

On the second occasion my mother overheard me enthusing telephonically to a chap I'm hoping to 'bring over to the tweed side' myself. Just as my sales pitch reached a crescendo, with me telling him what a jolly good shout Tweed is for a man's bearing. I heard the dulcet tone of my dear mama say "it certainly does something for your bearing"

Your ChumThe Bushwacker

PS If Bertie's free do you fancy meeting up at The Drones for a swift one?

Tweeds do make the man, SBW, no doubt about it. Sadly, I don't *actually* possess any myself, sad to say, but every charity shop (or thrift store) I go into, I have a look for the cast-off garments of the gentry. Not to go hunting in them mind, that'd be silly, but just so I could drape myself in them and affect the habiliments of the Squirearchy.

I don't think waders are *ever* going to be 'hip', sorry to say, Mr. Crow. Flies? They tend to just sit on my head and then decamp for my sandwich when they see fit.

'When I become "Ruler Over All"'? You're *already* the High Chieftain of the Hunter/Bloggers, Albert!